


Words Are Hard to Say, So I'll Just Send You Emails.

by Emma (Love_is_Blind)



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Human Squip (Be More Chill), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, the squip is a student, this is a retelling of bmc if the squip was human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-13 22:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17496194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_is_Blind/pseuds/Emma
Summary: Jeremy Heere is an average teenager that isn't looking to get involved in any drama. That get's thrown out the window when he's paired up with Jasper Light for a writing project.Suddenly, they're chilling in alleys and crying on each other's shoulders. Everything's moving so fast...(A retelling of BMC if the SQUIP was a human)





	Words Are Hard to Say, So I'll Just Send You Emails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not going by irl high school projects, im just making something i can work with uwu

His eyes open. The ceiling is intricate. It's warm under the sheets. The darkness is comforting. "I don't wanna get up..." a tired and hoarse voice gurgles, feeling the attack of cold air on his toes and fingers. He pulls himself under the sheets more, twisting into a human ball.

 

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEE-_

 

A pale hand covered in freckles slams on the cold metal of an alarm clock. He retreats under the sheets, before abruptly exploding out. "Shit.. school, right." Placing his feet on the carpet, he stumbles to the bathroom. Something eats at his skin, sweat, and grime not allowing for a very comfortable existence. The bathtub stood idly in front of the sink, a toilet next to it. He did his business and took a quick, cold shower to wake up and feel clean.

 

His clothes made subtle noises as he quickly donned his famous striped shirt, blue cardigan, and baby blue jeans. His hair looked like a bird's nest that was out in the rain for a year. He quickly brushed his mop of light brown hair and ran downstairs. Loud footsteps followed the boy's arrival downstairs, the smell of unwashed clothing and alcohol accompanied by the static of the TV. "Dad?"

 

A grumble and the slosh of liquids gave him an answer. He grabbed his backpack and some toast and eggs. "Wait, Jeremy."

 

The gruff voice of Jeremy's dad made him look up. The middle-aged man hadn't gotten up, rather speaking tensely while being hidden by the couch,

 

"When you see the bad, and people say it is the good, you want to do the bad. But when the bad swallows you up, you know it is the bad," Mr. Heere advised. Jeremy thought that is dad meant watching porn and having sex. It would be humorous to hear his dad sputter those words.

 

"Well, what is the bad, dad?" Jeremy questions slickly, thinking he's got his dad stumped. "The bad" was gonna be fun to hear.

 

Mr. Heere waits a moment. Silence and tension fill the air and it feels like tons are on his heart. "The bad is what you think you want. The bad is what the kids want you to want. The bad seems glorified and put up on a pedestal. A pedestal that you're torn down from. Torn down, kicked, shamed, and hurt. The bad is the plastic smiles and bodies the people want from you."

 

The blue-eyed brunette hesitates. He didn't expect such an odd and ominous reply. Confusion stung his head and his hands became jittery. Jeremy didn't appreciate the confusion that came with that reply. Nothing to say or do, he gave his default, abrasive reply. "Yeah, whatever, old man."

 

A sigh sounded just as Jeremy disappeared behind the white door. The sidewalk felt colder than it should have, the air nipped more than it should have, the world seemed dimmer than it should have. The dark green of the trees and grass looked like snakes slithering towards him as the wind swung the green.

 

The walk to school felt painful and sorrowful. As if the earth didn't want people there today. Everyone he passed seemed to agree, painful expressions on their faces as they pulled themselves through the sidewalk to the school building.

 

It stood intimidatingly like a concrete monster that had been growing over centuries and breaking over centuries. The windows glistened sharply, and the dirty outside seemed to sprawl for miles and a flag swung loosely as if just waiting to leave this hell. People's heads drummed and the air felt sticky. Every sound messed up your eyes and sense of smell, and you couldn't feel your fingers. The desks smelled of sweat, grease, and graphite. The room smelled of dry-erase markers and warm paper.

 

* * *

 

 

The teacher gurgled meaningless words and phrases, teaching something no one cared about. The nerds, who did care, jotted down notes and raised their hands and saved everyone else from doing work. Nerds were just all around good things in schools. Bullying targets, entertainment, homework, lunch money, and theft. Anything you wanted to do at school you could, if you did it to nerds. They let things pass and didn't have the common sense to tell the teachers, so it was free vodka, metaphorically.

 

Unless you ended up bullying one of the more sassy nerds. Those were dangerous. They always told the teachers, like the teacher's pets they were, and never took shit from dick. They had the skin of a rhino, so unless you got physical, it was no fun. One of those was this blondie with brown eyes and olive skin. She was, of course, a nerd. She was also not the ugliest sight, coming from the pimply kid in the back of the class.

 

Later, at lunch, Michael and Jeremy shared looks of concern, as everyone stared at their backs. They turned them around and saw that, while they weren't looking, Rich unceremoniously wrote on their backpacks "Boyf Riends" in ugly marker, little flecks of smelly, black Sharpie around the edges. So that's what Rich was doing when he was pushing him around.

 

They left quickly, trying to scrub the Sharpie off their backpacks. Vigorously, they slaved away at the stains, ending up sweaty and utterly fruitless.

 

In the end, Jeremy walked on the right and Michael walked on the left. At least it read "Riends Boyf" instead of "Boyf Riends." His pride wouldn't be shattered today. Well, it was already shattered, and now it was being ground into dust. He cried inside, his forehead sweaty and his pimples bulging.

 

* * *

 

 

In the bathroom, Jeremy encountered his biggest fear.

 

Socializing.

 

As Rich, our giddy, childish and cock of a human being, literally and metaphorically, started rambling about some guy named Fred and how he was the best way to get weed. He was some tanned, brown-haired guy who lived in the shadows and you could find him in the back of the school selling marijuana. Not his cup of tea, well coffee, but exactly what Michael would need. His weed was running low and he needed something hard fast. Being conscious while living is like being hung on chains as goats nibbled at your toes and the only other person was someone who brought you literal horse food mixed with horse shit for dinner. Just one cup. No water, all the fluid from the horse shit.

 

"Um, I think it's been over ten minutes, the teacher might be getting worried-"

 

"Don't you dare move a fucking muscle Jeremy Heere." The voice came gruffly, nervous but not shy. It declared dominance and demanding. But one thing caught his sweet sweet lungs on fire. The fact that Rich had zipped up his pants and was now cornering him in one of the stall corners. Fuck.

 

Oh, his weewee felt like it had been kicked. Nothing really could prepare a 16-year-old teenager for this. "You have English next, eh?"

 

Jeremy nodded vigorously, trying to slip out from this conversation. "Mr. Libido is gonna let us pair up on a writing project. Make sure to pick me."

 

Jeremy nodded, feeling like his head would fall off his neck and he would just have to witness disgusting things. Rich let go and Jeremy speed-walked out of the room like his life depended on it. It did.

 

* * *

 

 

English.

 

Ah, Rich was in the front eyeing him as if he could make needles and stab him with them. He probably could. he tales a seat behind Jenna, being careful to overhear every single thing the school's walking newspaper said. Elizabeth fucked another dude, someone's nudes got hijacked, someone's wearing something too slutty, Jake got another girl, Mr. Libido got another boner during class...

 

Nothing new, everything's happened before. Mr. Libido starts taking roll and everyone giggles as he says "present" instead of "here" like everyone else. A squeaky marker draws on the whiteboard, making everyone see what new torture the teacher had created.

 

On the board, an almost empty, dry-erase, red marker scribbles: "Writing project due in three months. Must be +12 pages. Creative writing. Work with partners or groups."

 

Ah. Rich was talking about this. Well, he obviously wasn't going to partner with Rich. Bad grades and lots and lots of screaming and him doing work and getting hurt. He could partner with Jake AND Rich. It would be more chill, but really bad grades. Neither of us were very good spellers.

 

How do you spell cyclopentanoperhydrophenanthrene? No one would know.

 

So, only a few people were left. Jenna is no, she would leave him with the work and keep on her gossiping. Bad grades for both of us and Jenna would gossip on how I didn't work on the project and twist the story into such a disgusting tale that my reputation would shatter.

 

Brooke and Chloe are already together for the project, being the only two that got along mostly. They didn't even ask, it was known. No one else was available except Jasper.

 

Jasper, the kid who sat in the back of the classroom and did nothing because he got straight As. Jasper, the kid who was chiller than the Polar Vortex and absolutely talked to no one. Jasper, the kid who absolutely could cool you to your toes and make your spine break in half with just a look.

 

Icy blue, yet so warm and sweet. Was blue supposed to be that safe? He didn't know, but he knew many perks would be coming from partnering up with Jasper. No one had the courage to ask, and usually ended up partnering up with someone random and they got great grades. Girls and boys alike swooned at the idea of being close to him. Unlike everyone else in school, no one could figure out the guy.

 

Was he a heartbreaker? A nice person? A nerd?

 

No one knew, and because of that, he didn't get a title. Brooke and Chloe had titles. Jenna had titles. Jake and Rich had titles. Jeremy and Michael even had titles. Everyone had titles.

 

Except for Jasper. He was pretty, he was smart, he was hidden, he was noticeable. He was everything, and nothing, and something.

 

It was hard to categorize him, unlike everyone else.

 

Jasper hadn't been actively looking for a partner. He never did, He was apathetic like that.

 

"Hey, uh Jasper..?"

 

"Hm?" He looked up, expectant of words. Words that were trying to get out of their mouth but he was holding it in because he could shart words again because that would make him look stupid and everyone would see that he was a giant idiot...

 

 "U-um.. wo-would you l-l-l-l-like to w-w-w-w-wor-or-ork wi-i-ith me..?" he awkwardly sputtered out, feeling his face grow hot and his legs shaking as if Rich and Thor had partnered up to kick him in the shins with hammers and tigers. Jasper didn't flinch at all at the poorly worded and very hard to understand sentence. Without moving a muscle, he shrugged.

 

"Alright."

 

And so, Jeremy's journey began as Jasper stood up and told the teacher they were partners and Rich glared holes in his spine like he could rip it out with his teeth. He probably would.


End file.
